


take this sinking boat and point it home

by mariathepenguin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariathepenguin/pseuds/mariathepenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Slowly, so slowly that Emma starts to worry that she will run out of power before they can finish this, the energy retreats back into the diamond. There is a half second of absolute silence where Regina looks at her and she looks at Regina, and her magic roars out of her, rushing down her hands to the diamond.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>An AU where Emma and Regina recover from the events of the finale in Storybrooke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains discussion of electroshock torture in all chapters. The title is taken from the song falling slowly, which is my current obsession.

 

Emma stumbles into the apartment to the sounds of Mary Margaret leaning over the prone figure on the bed.

‘Emma, Regina is- are you alright?’

She knows she must look like shit. She cried in the car, and on the stairs, and Tamara managed to get a few good hits in when they were fighting.

‘Neal,’ she manages. ‘Tamara shot him.’

Mary Margaret holds her in a hug so tight that she gasps, her ribs flaring up where Tamara kicked her. Her kindness makes Emma dig her nails into her hands to stop from crying again, and she pulls back.

‘How’s Regina?’ Mary Margaret frowns at the obvious attempt to change the subject.

‘She hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s breathing.’

‘And Henry?’

‘David’s gone to pick him up now,’ Mary Margaret says. Her hand is stroking over Emma’s hair absently, a soothing motion that makes Emma want to bolt. ‘Come and sit down. I’ll make us some tea.’

‘No,’ she says. ‘I need- I’m gonna go have a shower.’

She goes up the stairs before Mary Margaret can stop her, taking them two at a time until she can lock herself in the bathroom and rip her blood-smeared shirt off and make the shower water so hot that her skin turns an angry pink almost as soon as she steps in.

 

*

 

She comes downstairs to Mother Superior –the Blue Fairy, she corrects herself- hovering over the bed. She walks over to Mary Margaret as Regina’s eyes open at the blue light sinking into her skin.

‘Hi,’ Mary Margaret says, gently, like the voice she uses with her students.

A kind of horrified disbelief at waking up to find her most hated enemy holding her hand and dabbing at her face with a washcloth spreads across Regina’s face. It would be intimidating if it wasn’t for the burn marks at Regina’s temples and arms, and Emma turns away to avoid looking at the faint glaze of pain in Regina’s eyes.

The front door opens and David and Henry come in, and Regina struggles to sit up as Henry rushes towards her and throws himself into her arms. Emma can see her struggle to support his weight as he wraps himself tight around her. Mary Margaret moves forward, hands darting forward as if to ease Henry off her, but Regina glares her away, wrapping a still-trembling arm around him and holding him tight.

Emma moves away to give them some space and winds up sitting on the stairs, staring at one of the landscape paintings that Mary Margaret has hanging all over the place.

‘You okay?

David appears in front of her, his concerned face hazy and blurry. She wipes at her eyes impatiently and he sits next to her, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulders.

‘Neal’s dead,’ she says. ‘Tamara killed him.’

 ‘Oh, Emma,’ David says. But he doesn’t say anything; doesn’t do much except for sit next to her and let her lean against his solid, comforting, warmth. She closes her eyes as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

_This is what I could have had_ , is a thought that she doesn’t let herself have too much, because where would that get her. But the first person she ever loved is dead and she can’t stop thinking it.

This is what it would have been like, to spend every day surrounded by people who hugged her too tight and hurt because she hurt.  It’s more than she can deal with right now, twenty-eight years of what could have been, and she takes a shaky breath and tries her best to put it aside, for now.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to tell Henry,’ she says instead. She glances to where he is still sitting with Regina, dark heads close together as they talk quietly.

‘Tell him soon,’ David suggests. ‘We’ll be here to help you, if you want.’

Henry is smiling slightly, his feet kicking against the floor as Regina runs a hand through his hair and gives him a fast hug. David follows the direction of her gaze and frowns in displeasure when he sees them. She sighs.

 ‘She’s his mom, too.’

He watches them for a while longer and nods reluctantly.

‘I know she is,’ He stands, his back cracking uncomfortably as he stretches. ‘We’re gonna need to talk to Regina. We need to find out what she knows.’

‘I’ll talk to Henry,’ she says reluctantly. She walks over and drops a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

‘Hey kid, I need to talk to you for a minute,’ she says. She avoids Regina’s sharp, watchful eyes and leads Henry away, up the stairs and into her room.

‘It’s something bad,’ he says, more a statement than a question. He picks his hand up and squeezes it tight.

‘Yeah, it is.’

 

*

 

She finds out about the failsafe and wants to kill Regina. The rage burns hot just like it did after Henry ate the poisoned turnover, and her hands twitch towards her gun before she can stop herself.

But she doesn’t, because Henry is clinging to Emma’s waist, teary eyed and shaky over the prospect of losing everyone he loves right after she told him about Neal. And there is this look in Regina’s eyes, a hopeless desperation that tells her that there aren’t enough bullets in the world to punish Regina as much as whatever she’s planning to do.

 

*

 

And okay, yeah, Regina can be kind of a terrible person, but there is something eerie about the way she walks up to the failsafe and tells Emma to get out. Her face changes from a kind of accepting fear to intense determination as magic begins to pour from her fingers into the failsafe, increasing the temperature in the mine by a few degrees and pushing Emma back a couple of steps.

Emma can see sweat beading down Regina face, even from a several feet away, and she takes a hesitant step forward. This isn’t right, leaving Regina to be buried alone under tons of rock.

‘ _Go_ ,’ Regina shouts. Her eyes have started to glow purple, and the ground begins to shake.

Emma runs.

 

*

 

Emma runs, but running isn’t a strategy that sits well with people whose first instinct is to find, and fight, and less than an hour after she left Regina in the mines she is back, Henry pressed against her side and her parents standing on either side of them.

‘Get out,’ Regina cries, when she sees them. Emma reaches into her pocket for the bean and

_Fuck_

‘Hook,’ she says, louder when they don’t hear her. She shows them her empty palm and Mary Margaret’s face whitens.

‘Emma, get him out of here. _Go_.’ Regina sounds frantic. She sounds like Emma is feeling.

‘We’re not gonna leave you, Mom,’ Henry says loudly.

They all jump as a large piece of rock falls from the ceiling and lands a couple of feet away from David.

Emma has always trusted her instincts, always let them prod her away from danger, so she doesn’t panic when her feet carry her towards Regina, who looks angrier than Emma has ever seen her.

‘Let me help,’ she says. And before Regina can reply Emma plunges her hands into the middle of the light.

The magic in the failsafe pounces on hers immediately, trying its best to push her back so it can escape. She is vaguely aware of Regina’s magic, forming a fast-eroding fence that the diamond is straining against, and she does her best to send hers to help.

_Here_ , Regina says, tugging gently at a tendril of Emma’s magic. Emma lets her take it, and Regina melds it with hers, forcing the magic back into the diamond. Emma gives as much magic as she can and thinks of high walls and immovable objects and unbreakable barriers and Regina takes her half-formed direction and sharpens them to a single, clear purpose.

Slowly, so slowly that Emma starts to worry that she will run out of power before they can finish this, the energy retreats back into the diamond. There is a half second of absolute silence where Regina looks at her and she looks at Regina, and her magic roars out of her, rushing down her hands to the diamond.

The diamond darkens and throws out one more concussive blast, throwing them to opposite sides of the mine, before dropping to the ground. The persistent pushing from the diamond’s magic on hers is gone, so she lies still for a second, straining for the breath that’s just been knocked out of her. Her parents rush up and pull her upright so they can squash her between them in a hug.

‘I’m okay, guys,’ she says. She pats Mary Margaret’s shoulder until they let her go, and staggers to her feet to see Regina and Henry at the other end of the cavern. Henry is trying to help Regina up, an awkward arm around her waist as he tries to lift them both up.

‘I’m fine,’ Regina snaps, when she sees Emma watching. She struggles to her feet and walks to where the diamond has fallen. It disappears and reappears in Regina’s hand.

‘What are you going to do with that?’ Henry asks. He is watching his mother apprehensively, his eyes flicking between her face and diamond.

‘Nothing,’ Regina says. Her hand tightens around the diamond and squeezes, and thin beams of light shine from between her fingers. The light fades, and Regina opens her hand. Black dust falls from her fingers in a steady stream.

‘It’s gone?’ Emma asks.

‘Yes,’ Regina confirms. ‘It’s gone.’ Regina doesn’t look up, just stares at the small pile of dust on the ground until David clears his throat.

‘We should get out of here,’ he says, gesturing towards the exit.

‘Yes, we-’ Regina stops, and blinks. Emma sees the trembling in her fingers and lunges forward, only just managing to slow Regina’s fall as her eyes roll back and she crumples to the floor.

 

*

 

‘Get out of my room.’

Even in a loose hospital gown with an IV in her arm, Regina is intimidating as hell.

‘Regina-’

‘No.’ Regina glares at Whale. ‘I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want him to come near me.’

‘I’m on duty tonight, Regina. No one’s going to be in until tomorrow.’

‘Then I’ll wait until tomorrow.’ Regina crosses her arms. ‘Now leave.’

‘Regina. You passed out. After being...’ he glances at Henry, who is perched at the end of Regina’s bed. ‘After being held captive for hours. You can’t heal yourself until your magic recharges, so please, let me make sure you’ll be alright.’

Whale is standing by the side of the bed, shoulders hunched and head bowed forward. His tone is a close to pleading as Emma has ever heard it, and she watches from her corner as Regina tilts her head, considering.

‘Please, mom,’ Henry says.  ‘I don’t want you to get worse.’

Emma remembers his face in the mine, small and white and panicked, screaming _help her, help her_ , as Emma frantically checked for a pulse.

‘Fine,’ Regina says shortly. Whale turns to her.

‘Give us a minute, please,’ he says.

Oh. Right. ‘Henry, let’s go,’ she says. ‘We’ll wait outside.’

Whale comes out five minutes after, placing his stethoscope around his neck and rubbing at his eyes.

‘How is she?’ Henry asks.

‘You’ll have to ask her,’ Whale replies.

Inside her room, Regina is sitting in her bed like she thinks she’s at the office, her back ramrod straight and fingers drumming on her bedspread.

‘What did Doctor Whale say?’ Henry asks, as he climbs back onto the bed.

‘Fine, dearest,’ Regina says. ‘Just a little exhaustion.’

Emma can’t help but be jealous of how naturally Regina reaches forward and runs her hand through Henry’s hair, even as she sends Emma a warning glance to stop her pointing out the obvious lie.

Not that Emma would have. The poor kid’s been through enough for today.

‘I think you should take Henry home, now, Miss Swan.’

Henry frowns at his mom and looks at Emma for help, but Emma can see Regina’s strength flagging, and Emma’s bruises are starting to hurt something fierce.

‘She’s right,’ Emma says. ‘We all need to get some sleep.’

This is probably the first time that Henry has ever seen the two of them actually agree on something to do with him, and he looks betrayed for a moment before he gets off the bed.

‘Henry, wait,’ Regina says. She stretches her arms out and pulls him closer.  ‘Thank you. And I love you.’

They hug. Regina’s hands curl into the back of Henry’s shirt and Emma looks away because she doesn’t know what to do with a Regina that looks so sad.

‘See you tomorrow,’ Henry says as he steps back. ‘And feel better.’

 

*

 

Mary Margaret and David aren’t back from the emergency town meeting they had called when Emma and Henry get back, and Henry goes straight to the fridge. He dumps a bunch of food out on the counter and starts to make a sandwich.

‘Make me one too,’ Emma asks. Henry nods, and a couple of minutes later they are sitting in the living room with their feet up, working their way through Henry’s overstuffed sandwiches.

‘Emma?’ Henry’s finished his sandwich and he’s dragging his finger through the mustard on the plate, drawing absent spirals.

‘Yeah?’

‘What are we going to do now? Are we going to go back to the Enchanted Forest?’

Not if Emma has anything to say about it. One month was more than enough for her.

‘I don’t know,’ she says instead. ‘The beans are gone. We can probably grow more if we have to, but I don’t...’

‘You don’t want to go back,’ Henry finishes. She searches his face for disappointment, upset that his Saviour doesn’t want to go back to her land, but he’s surprisingly neutral.

‘It’s not as good as they make it sound, Henry.’ She wants to add that nothing ever is, but Henry nods like he gets that anyway.

 

*

 

 

Henry sleeps in her bed instead of the pull-out couch. He says goodnight and rolls away to face the wall but Emma can hear him sniffling, trying hard to stay quiet.

 

‘Henry?’

He doesn’t answer, just curls up in a ball, and Emma steels herself before shuffling closer and pulling him into a hug. He doesn’t push her away and she breathes a sigh of relief.

Emma feels a hand grip hers tight, holding on like he’s afraid that someone’s going to swoop into the room and snatch her away. Henry has never had to face the possibility of losing someone he loves, and her heart breaks for the boy who knocked on her door in Boston, all those months ago. He’d wanted so much more than this.

‘We’re going to be okay,’ she says. Because she can’t just listen to him cry and not do something. She says it again and again, pressing her lips to the back of his head like she can get the words to sink through his skin.

He falls asleep, eventually, and Emma doesn’t fall asleep until the sun’s almost up.

 

*

 

Emma and Henry get to the hospital early the next morning to find Regina already up and dressed. A nurse is in the room, holding a bunch of papers that Regina is signing impatiently as they are presented to her.

‘Oh, hello, Henry,’ she says, like being discharged from hospital happens every day. ‘Miss Swan.’

She stands and makes her way over to them.

‘They’re letting you go already?’ Henry looks confused.

‘Whale agrees that I can finish recovering at home.’ Whale is nowhere to be seen. Emma suspects that Whale’s ‘agreement’ was more forceful badgering, and she’s not surprised that Regina refuses to look at her directly.

‘We’ll take you home,’ Henry offers.  He turns to Emma. ‘Can you drive us?’

Emma hesitates, and Regina half-smirks.

‘I can have the front desk call me a cab.’

‘Greg and Tamara are still loose, which means that you’re not safe,’ Emma says, because apparently the urge to be contrary when it comes to Regina runs deeper than she thought. ‘I’m the Sheriff. It’s my job to keep you safe.’

Regina raises an eyebrow, but Emma holds her gaze until she sighs.

‘Fine,’ Regina says. ‘Thank you,’ she adds begrudgingly, after a moment.

They walk to the car, and Regina slides into the front seat of the car and sits like she’s trying to minimise direct contact with the seat.

‘You’re not going to catch anything, you know,’ Emma says as she starts the car.

‘So you say,’ Regina says primly. There is a little giggle from the back and Emma rolls her eyes.

 

*

 

It doesn’t take them long to fall into a routine. Henry and Emma spend the first two nights in the house on Mifflin Street because Henry refuses to leave her and Emma refuses to leave him. After that Henry stays with Emma because Regina doesn’t want him living with her while Greg and Tamara are loose.

(When Regina explains this to Henry, Emma wants to ask why Regina doesn’t just put up some kind of magical protection around the house, but there is a careful brittleness to Regina’s tone that makes her hold her tongue).

But Emma takes Henry to Regina’s after school almost every day, and she plans her patrols so that they go past Regina’s house as often as possible. The emergency town council that’s headed by her parents get the Blue Fairy to help them strengthen the barrier around the town to hopefully keep anymore intruders out, and she recruits David and some of dwarves as deputies to help her search and patrol.

They hold out in this pattern until Emma passes by Regina’s over lunch to pick up some books that Henry had left there the day before. She knocks, but she can’t hear any movement inside, and she rests a hand on her gun as she walks around the house, to the back garden.

Regina is sitting under her apple tree, and Emma heads toward her, careful to make noise so that she doesn’t startle her.

‘You didn’t answer the door,’ she starts to say, because Emma showing up in the middle of the day unannounced is exactly the kind of thing that gets Regina pissed off. But Regina turns and she looks like she looks like she’s been shot.

‘What’s wrong?’ Regina doesn’t say anything, and Emma drops to her knees. That’s when she sees Regina’s hands, tucked into her lap but still trembling like she’s been plunged into icy water.

Emma takes another look at the yard; at the overturned basket and the apples spilled over the grass, at the way Regina’s legs are folded uncomfortably under her, at the still present burn marks that Regina should have been able to heal a long time ago.

‘What’s going on?’

Regina shakes her head, her lips pressed in a thin line.

‘Regina-’

‘Please,’ Regina says quietly, so softly that Emma would have missed it if she wasn’t sitting right next to her. ‘Please, don’t.’

She looks stripped away, more vulnerable than she had been after fainting in Emma’s arms, even. Emma is afraid that even one word will make her crumble, so she keeps silent and gets herself comfortable as Regina stares at her hands.

She doesn’t know how long they sit there. All she knows is that by the time Regina gets to her feet and smoothes the front of her skirt Emma’s butt is numb and one of her legs has fallen asleep. She stands too, and Regina looks everywhere but at her.

‘I’ll bring Henry by-’

‘Tomorrow, I know.’ Regina looks like she wants to be anywhere but in the garden with Emma, and she turns to walk away.

‘Wait.’ Emma places a hand on Regina’s shoulder. ‘Are you- are you going to be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma.’ Emma nods hesitantly, and Regina walks across the yard and into the house, closing the door firmly behind her.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are very vague and brief mentions of abuse in the last two chapters.

‘My hands,’ Regina says. ‘Dr. Whale says it’s nerve damage.’

The study is silent except for a ticking clock somewhere in the room, and Emma takes a second to keep her voice steady.

‘How bad?’

‘Most likely temporary. It comes and goes.’

Right now Regina’s hands are as steady as a rock, and she is staring at Emma with an almost bored look on her face, like she is making some kind of official report. It’s a far cry from the woman that Emma had seen in the garden three days ago, and now that Emma knows where to look she can see the painted-on composure flaking off in the worry lines around Regina’s mouth and eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Emma says, because she can’t think of anything else to say. Because Regina tries to tell Emma like it doesn’t matter but Emma can see Regina’s fingers tightening around the glass of brandy she’s holding, and she knows enough about Regina to know that she must hate the idea of letting one of her enemies know that she’s weak.

Not that they’re really enemies anymore, but Emma doubts that it matters.

It crosses her mind that Regina is only telling her this because she doesn’t have anyone else to tell, and she suddenly wishes that she hadn’t let Regina walk away that day.

Regina shifts uncomfortably, and Emma realises that she’s staring. She looks away and concentrates on the glass in her hands, listening to the faint sounds of Henry running along the corridor outside his room.

‘What do you need me to do,’ Emma says, when she hears a door upstairs slam shut. ‘I can... help.’ Not that she knows what to do with any of this. She doesn’t know how to handle a Regina that looks her in the eye for the first time in days, baring her weaknesses to Emma and just waiting to see what she’ll do.

Regina blinks in surprise, like that’s wasn’t what she had been expecting at all.

‘Like, do you need help? Do you want someone to come over more often?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ Regina says, waving her hand in the air. ‘I just.’ Regina takes a breath. ‘I just wanted someone to know,’ she says.

‘I won’t tell,’ Emma promises, and Regina nods. It feels strangely thrilling, this almost secret that shimmers in the air between them, adding another thread of connection to add to the shared son and orchestrated lives and the magic that Emma can feel thrumming right before she goes to sleep.

She raises her glass to drink and Regina follows suit. Her dark eyes smile at Emma over the rim of the glass.

 

*

 

Emma and Henry get back to the apartment just as Mary Margaret and David are getting dessert out of the oven, and Henry runs to sit at the table.

‘Can I have some pie?’ He asks. David chuckles and cuts him a piece.

‘Emma, you want some? She shrugs and nods, and soon everyone is sitting around the table. Henry is telling David about the comics he brought back from Regina’s, and Mary Margaret is telling Emma about her plans for the town, and, god, this was never supposed to be her life.

Just for a second, she misses her quiet Boston apartment and lonely life that didn’t involve checking over Henry’s homework and agreeing to help Mary Margaret mediate over some border dispute. It feels, for the millionth time, like she’s slipped into an alternate dimension, and the Emma that’s supposed to be here will maybe come back and kick her back to where she belongs.

‘Are you okay?’ Mary Margaret nudges her gently. ‘You’re not eating your pie.’

‘I’m just not hungry, I guess.’ She pushes her plate away. Mary Margaret frowns.

‘You’ve been working a lot. Maybe you should take a break.’ She presses a hand to Emma forehead.

‘I’m fine,’ she says.

‘You should get an early night,’ Mary Margaret says. ‘You’ve been working too hard.’

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Emma says. She goes upstairs and lies down on her bed and takes a nap while she waits for everyone to go to sleep. When the house is quiet, she tiptoes downstairs and leaves the apartment, stopping only to grab her jacket and tuck the blankets around Henry’s sleeping form on the couch.

She’s been to Regina’s so many times that she makes the walk on autopilot, and it’s not long until she’s at the front door, ringing the bell and shivering and wishing she’d grabbed an actual warm coat.

A light turns on downstairs and Emma can hear cautious steps coming towards the door.

‘It’s me. Open up.’ The door opens and Regina peers through the crack in the door.

‘What are you doing here? Is Henry alright?’

‘He’s fine,’ Emma says. She steps forward, but Regina doesn’t open the door any wider.

‘Can I come in?’ Regina gives her a long look before she opens the door wider, and Emma slips through.

Regina’s still wearing the clothes she was in earlier in the evening, and Emma follows her to the kitchen and sits at the barstool while Regina makes coffee. Soon Regina’s sitting across from her, sipping on her own cup while Emma swirls hers around.

‘Is there any reason why you decided to darken my doorway at the middle of the night?’ Regina’s tone is acerbic, as usual, but the dim light in the kitchen has softened her and Emma can’t help but smile.

‘It’s less crowded here,’ she offers. ‘And you make really good coffee.’

‘I do,’ Regina allows.

They finish their coffee. Emma plays with the zipper on her jacket and Regina taps out a rhythm with her fingers.  Eventually, Regina sighs.

‘Why are you here, Emma?’ Emma stares at her counter while she tries to think, and Regina waits with uncharacteristic patience.

‘I just want to know why you did it.’ It’s a vague statement, but she can tell by the stiffening in Regina’s posture that she knows what she means.

‘Emma.’ Her name sounds smooth in Regina’s mouth now, almost like a caress, but Emma ignores it.

‘You did all this awful shit. You hurt so many people. You took my _family_ away. I just don’t understand.’ Except she does. She hates that she knows. She hates that she understands more about an Evil Queen than the family who loves her. And Regina knows that too, judging by the way she’s looking at Emma.

‘Emma.’ Regina slips off her stool and walks towards her.  

‘Don’t say my name like that.’ Regina stops in front of her. She looks at Emma like she’s an open book, like her feelings are inked across her skin. It feels invasive, and Emma wants to turn away. But she stays where she is and tries to stare Regina down. ‘We’re not friends.’

‘I know that.’ A hand reaches up and presses against her cheek, and Emma’s breath catches in her throat. Regina’s hand is firm against her cheek, and Emma can’t help but lean into it.

‘What are you doing?’ Regina’s so close that Emma can smell the faint traces of the perfume she still wears every day.

‘I don’t know,’ Regina says. She leans forward and presses a kiss against Emma’s cheek, and Emma’s stomach flips.

‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ Regina says. Emma can feel Regina’s lips brushing against her cheek as she speaks, and she shudders.

‘Regina,’ she warns, but her hand comes up to pull Regina closer by the arm and she closes her eyes when Regina presses a smaller kiss to her jaw. Regina’s hair tickles her nose and she uses her free hand to push it aside.

Regina is warm and soft in her arms and she can’t help but pull her closer, breathing in her honey shampoo as Regina moves down, pressing kisses against her neck.

‘No, no, stop,’ she gasps, when her knees start to shake. ‘We can’t. We have to stop.’

She pushes Regina away and stands up. She runs her hands through her hair again and again, willing her heart to slow down. It doesn’t, and she turns to leave.

‘I’m just gonna go,’ she says.

‘Fine.’ Regina tucks her hands in her pants pockets, aiming for nonchalance but failing miserably, and Emma groans in defeat.

‘Fuck,’ she says, and it only takes a second to cross the room and pull Regina into her arms. Emma kisses her, and Regina stiffens in surprise before she reacts, winding her arms behind Emma’s back. Emma backs Regina up against the kitchen counter and Regina responds by kissing her harder, filling her with a warmth that chases away the fear and worry simmering in her chest.

 

*

 

Emma wakes up to a warm body pressed along the length of hers. The room is just lit enough to let her see Regina’s outline in the bed, her hair a dark splash against the cream pillowcases.

It’s still dark out, so Emma lays back against the bed and tries not to thinks about where she is and what this means and she tries to enjoy the smoothness of Regina’s skin against her own.

‘Go back to sleep,’ Regina mumbles. ‘I can’t relax when you twitch like that.’ Regina turns over to face Emma and pushes her hair out of her face.

‘Sorry,’ Emma says. She runs a fingertip down Regina’s side and Regina shivers, so Emma does it again, until Regina is arching into her front and pushing her fingers into the back of Emma’s neck.

Regina kisses her, rolling her onto her back and stroking her tongue into her mouth until all Emma can do is kiss back. She moans when Regina slips a smooth thigh between hers, and she holds on tight, running her hands over her back and keeping their hips close together.

Regina turns her head to gasp for breath and Emma presses a kiss to her temple. She freezes when Regina winces and pulls away, and Emma sees the burn on her temple, partially hidden by her hair but still visible even in the dim light.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, and Regina rolls off her.

‘It’s fine,’ she says, and she throws her hand over her eyes. Emma watches for a while, watches her chest rise and fall and listens to her breath come out in short huffs. Finally, she speaks.

‘You never talk about it.’

‘That’s because there’s nothing to say. It happened. It’s over.’ It comes out in a monotone, and Emma frowns and tugs at the hand covering Regina’s eyes.

‘That’s not how it works.’

‘That’s how it works for me,’ Regina says. She lets Emma pull her hand away, but keeps her gaze focused on the ceiling. Emma turns her hand over and runs it over the marks that are on Regina’s arms too, the ones she’s kept carefully hidden with long sleeves.

‘Can you heal these?’ It’s the wrong thing to say. Regina glares – really glares, for the first time in a while, but Emma keeps her hand in a loose grip. Eventually Regina turns back to face her.

‘Whale has this theory, about magic and biology. I don’t follow it completely but Greg-’ her voice catches on his name ‘he did something. I used up all my magic shutting the diamond down and I’m not recharging like I should. He damaged my magic. So, no, I can’t heal myself.’

‘Maybe I can heal you,’ Emma offers. Regina shakes her head.

‘It’s not worth it. Healing is delicate. It’s not worth it for a couple of burns.’

‘But-’

‘No,’ Regina says firmly. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’ Emma thinks about pushing it, but something about the way that Regina’s eyes glitter tells her that sharing time is over. So she nods and Regina pulls her arm away.

‘I should get going,’ Emma says. The sun is starting to rise, and she should get home before anyone notices.

‘Hmm,’ Regina says. She turns back around and half buries her face in the pillows. ‘You should. Henry needs to get ready for school.’

Regina sounds a lot more complacent about Henry’s living arrangements than she has before, but Emma still feels a small squirm of guilt. This room has a picture of Henry of almost every counter, and there are probably whole boxes of baby clothes and keepsakes hidden somewhere in the house, but Emma’s the one that gets to see him every day and eat with him and go to sleep in the same house.

‘I’m gonna go,’ she says, sliding out of the bed and turning on a bedside light so she can find her clothes. There is a rustle of sheets and Regina turns and watches Emma get dressed, and Emma tries not to be self conscious.

‘Goodbye, Sheriff,’ Regina drawls, when Emma’s dressed. ‘Try not to feed my son too much sugar.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Emma says. She rolls her eyes and steps towards the bed as Regina sits up. She looks ravished, her hair in unruly curls and her eye makeup just a little smudged, and Emma kisses her hard, pushing her into the pillows and sighing when Regina trails a hand down her neck.

She pulls away and grins. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she says, and Regina gives her a sarcastic wave before rolling over and burying her face in the pillows.

 

*

 

No one’s awake when she gets home, and she slips back into her room and shucks her clothes off. She slips back into bed and tries to get a few hours of sleep before everyone gets up. She gets maybe an hour of sleep before Mary Margaret knocks on her door and pokes her head in.

‘Emma, honey, time to get up.’ Emma yawns and sits up.  She stretches and winces when the muscles in her lower back twinge.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Just tired,’ Emma says, swinging her legs out of bed. ‘We’d better get going,’ she adds, walking faster so that Mary Margaret doesn’t see the smile creeping across her face.

 

*

 

Any thoughts Emma had that being with Regina was a one time thing are very quickly put to rest when she shows up with Henry the next day after school and Regina plants a firm kiss on her mouth as soon as Henry runs into the kitchen to find a snack.

She pulls back and smirks at the surprise that Emma knows must be showing across her face, and walks to the kitchen to find Henry.

Emma shows up at Regina’s later that night, and Regina answers the door in a short black robe and two wine glasses carefully balanced in the hand that’s not propping the door open.

Emma learns that sex with Regina is as unpredictable as everything else. She bites and scratches and pushes Emma into almost violent climaxes that leave her trembling and unable to move, but she also brushes soft kisses over Emma’s skin and sometimes twines their hands together while they try to catch their breath.

She learns that Regina likes to be teased. She learns that touching the backs of her knees will make her melt in Emma’s arms and pinning her will make her stiffen and pull away. She learns that Regina doesn’t like to talk about how she got the scar on her lip but she doesn’t mind Emma kissing it.

She catalogues all these little pieces of information away and wonders if Regina is doing the same thing with her. She wonders if Regina is building up a little mental map of Emma that is made of a thousand little secrets all pulled out of her when sex has stripped away most of the artifice.

Emma also increases patrols around Regina’s, and she starts to find reasons to drop by more often. Leaving Regina alone was just barely acceptable when Emma assumed she still had her magic, but now it seems reckless. Mary Margaret and David aren’t hugely enthusiastic- their initial ‘we’re family’ sentiment has cooled considerably from when they first rescued her, but they both agree that a little extra caution isn’t a bad idea.

 

 

*

 

Emma has just got to Regina’s house –Henry is asleep, and Mary Margaret and David not so subtly asked for a night to themselves – when she notices that all of the lights in the house are out. Which is weird, because Regina is expecting her.

It’s probably nothing, she knows, but she ducks back into the Bug to grab her gun and she slips it into place. She walks up to the front door and there is there isn’t anything wrong. No sound, so broken lock or suspicious anything, but Emma listens to the small voice that is telling her that something is most definitely wrong, and she walks to the back of the house, peering in the windows as she goes along.

Her heart starts to thunder in her chest when she sees that one of the windows in the study has been broken from the outside, and she takes a deep breath to try to steady herself before climbing in through the broken window as carefully as she can.

The broken glass crunches under her feet as she steps carefully into the study, and she takes a quick look around. The study is empty, and nothing is disturbed, but her legs shake as she creeps through the door to the hall. Now that she’s inside the house, she can hear a faint sound coming from upstairs, and she pulls her gun out and goes to investigate, taking time to avoid the stairs that she knows will creak and keeping every sense attuned to even the slightest feeling that there is someone near her.

She reaches the second floor and now the sound is louder, floating down from the end of the hallway and making her shiver. It’s the sound of talking, Regina’s voice low and strained and a louder, deeper voice, clearly angry. Emma hurries towards the master bedroom and inches the door open, making no noise at all, and her hand drifts down to grip her gun when she sees inside.

Regina is sitting in the chair across the room, by the window. Her head is turned towards her right, where Greg is standing, a pistol gripped in an unsteady hand and aimed at Regina’s forehead.

‘Stop talking,’ he says. ‘Nothing you say means anything. You’re _evil_. You’re poison.’

‘Please. Don’t.’ Regina is trying hard to keep her voice calm, but Emma can hear the terror lacing her tone. ‘This isn’t going to bring him back.’

‘No,’ Greg says. ‘It won’t. But it’ll make me feel better.’ He brings the hand that was resting at his side up to support the gun, and shifts into a more stable stance. Emma’s legs turns to water.

She can’t shoot him from here; the angle is all wrong and the weak light from the bathroom isn’t enough to let her make a clean shot. So she pulls her gun out and tries to keep it out of sight while stepping into the room.

‘Stop.’ Greg whips around. His hands keep the gun steady on Regina.

‘What are you doing here?’ Now that he’s facing her she can see how unkempt he looks. His hair is longer and clearly uncombed, and he has the beginnings of a tangled-looking beard.

‘I’m the Sheriff,’ she says. She takes another step into the room.

‘Don’t move, or I’ll kill her.’ He raises his arms a little and Regina closes her eyes.

‘Don’t. Don’t do that.’ Regina’s eyes are still closed. ‘If you kill her, her son is going to grow up like you.’

‘He won’t,’ Greg says. ‘He has family.’

‘It’s not the same,’ Emma says. Because it’s not. Because sometimes Henry feels sick or sad and she doesn’t know what to do. Because sometimes he drags his feet these days when they leave the mansion to go back to the apartment.

‘It’s not the same,’ she says. ‘You kill her like this, you make another kid just like you were.’

Greg looks away from Regina, slowly, like he’s asleep. His eyes fix on her and shine with the light from the bathroom. He looks half-crazy, Emma realises. She wonders where he’s been sleeping.

‘I was alone. I was so alone.’ He starts to cry. ‘You don’t know what that’s like.’

He looks wretched, tears running into his beard and gun still trembling in his hands, and Emma feels a pulse of pity- and yes, anger, that the woman sitting across from her could have been the catalyst for this- but he is holding a gun, and he tried to kill almost everyone in the town a few weeks ago.

‘I do,’ Emma says. ‘I know. Greg, please. You don’t have to be alone anymore.’

‘I am. Tamara’s gone. She left town. I’m alone. This is all I have.’ He’s turning away from her and focusing on Regina again. His movements are smoother and sharper now, like he’s waking up. Regina, Emma is startled to notice, is mouthing something at her, again and again.

‘What are you saying?’ Regina ignores Greg, staring intensely and mouths it again.

_Magic._

Oh.

‘Stop,’ Greg orders.

Emma tunes him out and focuses hard, but all she gets is heat at the end of her fingers. She thinks of the mine, the last time she used magic. She thinks of Regina standing opposite her, teasing Emma’s magic out from under her skin.

‘Goodbye,’ Greg says. ‘I hope you burn in hell.’

Emma breathes out and releases the magic, and it bounds out of her, picking Greg up and throwing him against the wall. He’s stunned, but recovers quickly, and Emma moves closer and raises her gun to try to get a clean shot.

Except Greg picks up the bedside lamp and whips it at Emma, and he uses the distraction to meet her halfway and yank her gun out of her hand. They struggle; Emma trying desperately to keep his gun away from her and Greg forcing her back and trying to force her hands down. This close Emma can smell his unwashed, sweaty skin and musky clothes, and she squirms to try to get out of his grip. But he is strong, and she is losing.

Suddenly there is a flash of movement behind him, and a loud, sick crunching noise, and his grip on her abruptly goes weak. Another crunch; and he drops to the ground, clearly unconscious. Emma looks up to see Regina with the chair she had been sitting on in her arms held aloft like she expects him to stand up again.

Emma drops to the ground and checks for a pulse before quickly handcuffing the unconscious man’s hands behind his back. She picks both the guns up gingerly and places them well out of reach before turning to Regina.

‘Are you okay?’ Regina nods shakily and Emma steps forward and grabs her in a fierce hug. If she’d got there a minute later Regina would probably have been dead. Regina leans into her, letting Emma support some of her weight. Emma can feel her shaking, and she pulls back a little.

‘Shit, Regina.’ She doesn’t know why she’s swearing, only that it helps, and she presses her mouth to the side of Regina’s head and kisses her hair, makes her way down her forehead and cheeks and brushes her lips over every spot she can reach.

‘What are we going to do with him,’ Regina says after a while, when they’ve both calmed down a little.

‘I’ll call the Sheriff’s office,’ Emma says. ‘We need to bring him in.’

Emma uses the phone to call the office and get reinforcements to come and take Greg to the hospital, and she stays in Regina’s room to watch Greg while Regina goes downstairs to let them in.

They stand next to each other, not touching and not looking at each other while Ruby and Leroy take statements and pictures of Regina’s room. Emma follows Regina down to see them off when they leave.

‘Are you staying?’ Regina asks, and she leads them back upstairs when Emma nods.

They go to a guest room, a clean, clinical room that has probably never been used, and Regina pulls back the covers and takes her robe off while Emma strips down to her tank. Emma takes a second to notice Regina’s sleepwear – a very short, sheer dress that clearly wasn’t meant for sleeping at all – before Regina slips under the covers and waits for Emma to join her.

Now that the worst is over and no one’s lives are in danger, Emma can feel the beginnings of anger coming back, still partly buried under the almost crippling relief. It doesn’t make sense that the woman waiting for her in bed is the same woman who hurt so many people. She hesitates, glancing between the door and the bed. Regina sees her, and her eyes widen in alarm.

‘Emma.’ Now Emma’s name is a plea, an entreaty, as dark eyes settle on her with unnerving intensity. They are both still; Emma trying to decide what option will make her hurt less in the long run and Regina tense, waiting for Emma to move.

After several seconds Emma takes a deep breath and slides into bed, pulling the covers up high around her. She stays just far enough away they aren’t touching, and she watches Regina struggle not to reach out and touch her.

 ‘I had accepted that he was going to kill me,’ Regina says suddenly. ‘He pointed the gun at my head, and I thought, this is it. And I heard your voice and I wasn’t ready to die anymore.’

Emma has learned Regina now, and she can hear what she’s trying to ask. It’s not as complicated as _forgive me_ , but a simple _please don’t leave_. And god help her, but Emma doesn’t think she could. That probably says something awful about her, but feeling like this –calm and hopeful and wanted, even after everything that’s just happened, is a dangerously addictive feeling. And there is a part of her, a piece of optimism budding somewhere in her that thinks that her Regina- the one she knows, the one she’s in bed with right now – maybe is much more real than the Evil Queen that everyone hates.

She sighs and shuffles over on the bed, searching underneath the covers until she finds Regina’s hand.

 ‘I’m glad. That you’re here, I mean.’ Regina squeezes back, and stretches forward to press a quick kiss on Emma’s shoulder.

‘We’re gonna have to talk, at some point. About all this,’ Emma adds.

‘We can do that.’

‘But not now. Not soon,’ She is abruptly exhausted and she yawns. ‘I wanna sleep right now.’

 ‘We can do that too,’ Regina says. She rubs her thumb over the back of Emma’s hand and Emma lets her eyes close.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter. I just wanted to say thank you for the response, writing is a little less scary if you know you're heading in more or less the right direction. 
> 
> Also a reminder that there is discussion of torture and abuse in this fic. It's brief and vague, but still.

Emma stands at the edge of the boundary line, a little away from the small group that’s gathered to send Greg Mendel away.

‘Once you cross the boundary line,’ Mary Margaret says, ‘you won’t be able to come back. The Blue Fairy will ensure that you won’t be able to return to Storybrooke or tell anyone about it while you still bear ill will upon the people who live here.’

Greg stands still as the Blue Fairy sprinkles fairy dust on his head and waves her wand around in a complicated whipping movement. When she’s done, he blinks, and tips forward. David catches him before he can hit the ground and loads him into the cruiser.

‘He should be unconscious for a few hours,’ the Blue Fairy says. ‘Long enough to get to the next town.’

Emma climbs into the backseat of the cruiser and starts the car. ‘See you in a few hours,’ she says. Her parents wave, and she drives across the boundary line, a brief flash of heat the only sign that anything’s there.

Greg is still out cold for the whole drive, and Emma has to park the car in a shadowy corner of the bus terminal to avoid being seen. When Greg wakes, she gets out of the car, opens the back door, and pulls him out too.

‘Your wallet’s in your coat pocket,’ she says. ‘It still has all your stuff in it.’ She pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket. ‘Here’s a bus ticket to Boston.’

His eyes are sharpening and he’s looking less wobbly already, so Emma takes a step back.

‘There’s a bus leaving to Boston in half an hour,’ she says. ‘I suggest you get on it.’

He looks at her, then at the mostly empty bus terminal.

‘I don’t want...’ he starts.

‘I know you don’t. But I’m not really giving you a choice here. Get on the bus, or stay in this town. I don’t really care.’ He stares, unmoving, and she sighs.

‘Greg. This is another chance. Please don’t fight me. Just take it.’

He slowly peels himself from the side of the car. She keeps still as he walks past her, his uneven steps quickly steadying as whatever the Blue Fairy did wears off. Emma sits on the trunk of the car and doesn’t take her eyes off him as he wanders around the bus station.

She doesn’t let herself relax until the bus actually leaves with him in it, and she gets back into the cruiser and slumps into the driver’s seat.

The first thing she does is pull her phone out.

‘He’s gone,’ she says, when Regina answers. ‘Saw him leave myself.’

‘Good,’ Regina says. She sounds strained, but calm. ‘Are you going to come over?’

‘I can’t,’ Emma says. ‘My... Mary Margaret and David are expecting me. They’ll want a full report when I get back.’

‘Such a convoluted way to pass justice,’ Regina says. ‘You know, the Blue Fairy still hasn’t returned the books she borrowed for the spell.’

‘I’ll talk to her.’ Emma slips her phone into the holder and puts it on speaker.

‘Are you still coming for lunch tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be there by one. I’ve got to go,’ Emma says, peering at the road sign in front of her. Not being able to use a GPS to get back to Storybrooke is a pain in the ass. ‘Say hi to Henry for me.’

 ‘He’s asleep. He tried to wait up until you called.’ Emma smiles at the image of Henry asleep on the couch, waiting for her. ‘I’ll tell him that everything went as planned in the morning.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Bye, Emma.’ The line goes dead, and Emma finally finds the road that will lead her back home.

 

*

 

Emma told Regina that she wanted them to talk, and Regina had agreed, but they had both forgotten that neither are the type to spill secrets unless their lives are on the line, and maybe not even then.

Regina tries. She cups Emma’s face in her hands and kisses her and tells her little bits about her life.

‘I used to want to be a knight, or brave prince,’ Regina says, one time. ‘Like my mother wanted me to marry.  I made myself a paper sword that I kept under my pillow. Then my mother found it.’ Regina’s face darkens, and Emma doesn’t push.

She could, easily. And sometimes she wants to, because they are talking more but Emma doesn’t know much about her past. About why so many people’s lives have ended up in such a clusterfuck. And maybe Regina would lash out and pull away, or she would crumple and ask Emma not to leave again

(and, _god_ , her face in that moment)

But maybe Emma would have a better idea of who she was dealing with. Emma could push. But Regina trusts her not to.

So Emma tries to be patient, and Regina tells her things, slowly.

(‘I’m glad my mother is dead,’ Regina says one night. They are sprawled on the couch in the corner of the study, drunk on Regina’s cider. She sounds guilty and elated all at once and Emma reaches over and grips her knee. ‘I’m glad- Emma.’ Regina’s eyes are glazed with alcohol, but still sharp. ‘I feel so _free_.’)

Emma tells Regina things, too. She tells her about her worst and best foster homes; about the ones who forgot to feed her and the foster dad who stayed by her bed all night because she was afraid of the dark. She tells her about what Henry had looked like right after he was born.

(Regina stands at leaves the room at that one, and comes back with a baby book. It’s meticulously filled in, Henry’s every milestone documented in neat handwriting)

Emma tells her these things so it felt more like an equal exchange, at first, but this give and take is exhilarating. It makes them smile more; kiss more. It makes Regina’s fingers trip over her spine and grip harder and leave marks on the back of her neck. It makes them fight more, in an exhausting, passionate way that makes the magic between them flare white-hot.

It’s terrifying. It makes Emma want to leave and never come back, sometimes. But she stays.

 

*

 

One afternoon, when she knows that Henry will be at the apartment with David, she drops by to see Regina. The front door is unlocked, and Emma hesitates only a second before walking in.

‘Regina?’ Regina doesn’t answer, and Emma tamps down a little bit of anxiety. The town in safe, Regina is safe. They’re all safe. She calls out again.

‘I’m here.’ She follows the sound to the living room, where Regina is standing in the middle, staring out of the picture windows that take up a whole wall.

‘The door was unlocked,’ Emma says.

‘It’s fine,’ Regina replies, almost absently.

Emma recognises a particular hunch in her shoulders that never means anything good, and she walks forward cautiously.

‘Are you okay?’ Regina turns, and shit, something really is wrong. Regina is holding a cup of coffee in her, gripping it tight and she is rocking slightly on her heels like she’s going to bolt.

‘What’s...’

Regina’s hands shake and the cup slips from her hands, and coffee splashes over the white carpet.

Regina folds her arms and tucks her hands away, out of sight, but Emma can see the tremors in her hands and the desperate clenching of her fingers.

‘Fuck,’ Regina says. It’s low and harsh and Emma flinches like Regina was swearing at her.

‘Oh, Regina,’ Emma says, before she can stop herself. Regina glares.

‘Get out, Emma.’ Regina is trembling. What Greg and Tamara did to her, to her magic and her hands, is one of the things she absolutely refuses to talk about.

‘I’d like to stay.’ Emma takes a cautious step forward. Regina shakes her head, a convulsive movement that rips a sob out of her.

‘Regina, please.’

She stands and waits for what feels like about an hour before Regina gives a minute nod, so small that Emma would have missed it if she hadn’t been staring at Regina so intensely, and Emma steps close enough to be able to touch her. She reaches out a hand and places it on Regina’s arm, pulling gently and sliding her hands down until she has both of Regina’s hands cradled in her own.

‘Do you want to sit down?’

Regina refuses to look at her. Her fingers are colder than they should be, and Emma tightens her grasp. She tugs gently, and leads them to the overstuffed couch in the middle of the room. Regina follows passively, sitting when Emma urges her to and letting Emma keep her loose grasp on her hands.

Emma lays one hand in Regina’s lap and lifts the other in both of hers, gently smoothing out Regina’s fingers. She touches the smooth skin and well-shaped nails and presses Regina’s palm flat against hers.

‘Am I hurting you?’

Regina shakes her head, so Emma continues; rubbing her hands gently and trying to steady her hands against the tremors that are making her fingers curl inwards. After a while, Regina stops crying and closes her eyes. Emma stops.

‘Don’t,’ Regina says. She shifts a little closer. So Emma doesn’t. She gets bolder with her movements, skimming her thumb over Regina’s palm and pressing, feeling the delicate bones and now-slack muscles.

Regina is breathing deeply, looking more peaceful than Emma has seen, ever, and her hands are warm and still now, and Emma is warm and her magic is straining at the edges of her and Emma doesn’t know what to do except lift the hand that is cradled in hers and press it to her lips.

There is a blast of magic, and a slight pulling sensation just behind Emma’s heart and her magic is free, an iridescent blue gathering in the air between them. It feels like static electricity flying over her skin. It feels like a cord around her heart, squeezing until she gasps. It feels like cold air on an exposed nerve and Regina stiffens next to her, her hands tightening in Emma’s until the blue light fades and disappears.

Regina’s eyes snap open and lock on hers, shock dancing across her features, and Emma drops her hands.

‘Emma. What did you do?’

‘Totally the wrong person to be asking,’ she says. ‘How do you feel?’

Regina looks down at her hands and flexes them, and a small spark of magic darts from her palm. She looks back up at Emma and laughs, a clear, happy laugh that makes Emma’s stomach flip. Her fingers skim over Emma’s cheek, drawing circles along her cheekbones and following the curve of her jaw.

Regina pulls Emma closer and rests their foreheads together and Emma’s head spins as she breathes her in.

‘I thought I told you not to heal me,’ Regina says softly.

‘I wasn’t trying to,’ Emma says. ‘I just wanted to help.’

‘You did,’ Regina says. She brushes her fingers over Emma’s lips before sliding a hand into her hair. ‘You definitely did.’

She tugs Emma just a little bit closer and kisses her. She kisses her like it’s their first and last kiss and Emma touches her hair and her shoulders and lets Regina burn her up from the inside out.

 

*

 

‘What are you doing?’

Henry’s supposed to be upstairs doing his homework while they make dinner, and Emma jerks and pulls away from Regina to stare at Henry, who looks stark and disbelieving and more than a little angry.

‘Henry,’ Regina says, her voice soothing. She leans against the kitchen counter.

‘Were you kissing?’ He looks at both of them, eyes accusing and flinty.

‘Kid-’ Emma starts

‘No,’ he says. ‘You’re not supposed to do this.’ He turns to Regina.  ‘Why do you do that? Why do you have to ruin _everything?_ ’ He is angry in a way he hasn’t been in a while, almost shouting.

‘ _Henry_ ,’ Emma says, but he turns and runs out of the room. Emma hears him run up the stairs and slam his door shut.

‘Holy shit,’ Emma says.

‘I need to talk to him,’ Regina says. She starts to push past Emma, and Emma grabs her hand to stop her.

‘Wait. Maybe we should give him a little time to cool off.’ Regina bristles, like she sometimes does when Emma wants to handle something to do with Henry.

‘Why?’

‘That was a shitty thing he just said,’ Emma says. ‘He’s upset. I don’t want this to turn into a huge fight. Let’s just give him time to cool off.’

‘..... twenty minutes,’ Regina says. ‘Then we can go talk to him.’

‘I’ll do the salad,’ Emma offers.

They spend the next twenty minutes in tense silence. Emma follows Regina’s directions and keeps an eye on the clock.

When the food is all but done, Emma wipes her hands on the dishtowel.

‘Let’s go,’ she says, but Regina shakes her head.

‘He’s not going to want to talk to me,’ she says. Her hands play with the edges of her apron. ‘Go and talk to him first.’ It sounds like half order, half plea, and Emma presses a quick kiss to Regina’s cheek before heading up the stairs to find Henry.

‘Hey, kid. Can I come in?’ There’s no answer, so she pushes the door open slowly to find Henry lying on his bed. He’s reading the fairytale book, tracing his finger around one of the illustrations.

Emma sits at the edge of the bed and he barely glances at her before dropping his forehead to his bedspread. She shakes his shoulder gently.

‘Hey, look at me.’ He rolls over to face her reluctantly.

‘I know we surprised you, but what you said seriously wasn’t cool. You hurt your mom’s feelings, Henry.’

‘I know,’ he mumbles. ‘But you two were kissing.’ His face scrunches up. ‘You’re not supposed to do that.’

‘Why not?’ Henry’s silent for a while, and just when Emma thinks he’s not going to answer, he clutches at the book again. Emma looks at the open page and stares at the illustration of Snow White and Prince Charming, holding each other and smiling in that way they have when they don’t think anyone is watching.

‘You were supposed to marry my dad,’ he says quietly. ‘He’s your true love.’ Emma tries very hard not to react too strongly.

‘Why do you think he’s my true love?’

‘He is,’ Henry insists. ‘You love him. I know you do. He’s gonna come back and you’re gonna be together.’

‘I loved him,’ Emma concedes. She had felt a strong echo of that love the last time she had seen Neal. ‘I loved him a lot. But I was a completely different person back then.’

‘But you’re supposed to,’ he says.

‘No, I’m not,’ she sighs. ‘People aren’t always going to do things the way you want them to. That’s just how it goes, sometimes. I’m happy. Your mom’s happy. Can’t that just be enough for now?’

He hesitates, clearly fighting between his desire for his fairytale ending and Emma’s words, before he gives a small shrug.

‘Okay,’ she says. She nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I think you should go and apologise to your mom.’

He slouches off the bed, slightly less coordinated now that his legs are starting to grow, and Emma stretches out on his bed and plays with her phone to give them time before she goes downstairs.

She rounds the corner into the kitchen to find them hugging, Henry’s arms in a fierce grasp around Regina’s waist and Regina holding him tight across the shoulders, smiling gently as she looks down at him. Love has never looked quite so beautiful on anyone else’s face, Emma thinks, and she is sorry when they break apart.

‘Emma, good, you’re here. Dinner’s ready. Henry, take the chicken to the table, please,’ Regina says. She wipes her eyes discreetly and turns to the oven. ‘Emma, will you get the plates? No, not those,’ she says, as Emma gets a few down from the cupboard. ‘The ones with the roses. Up there.’

‘Yes, dear,’ Emma sighs theatrically. Regina rolls her eyes, and Henry giggles, and Emma gets the plates with the roses and smiles.


End file.
